


The First Dragonborn

by Aegis_Runestone



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Contest Entry, Gen, One Shot, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 19:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16898841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegis_Runestone/pseuds/Aegis_Runestone
Summary: An entry made for the December 2018 GameFAQs contest which asked us to crossover two different games, but of different publishers, I chose Cecil Harvey from FF4 to be in the land of Skyrim. Because, after all, Cecil was Dragonborn before it was cool.This takes place at the Western Watchtower during the "Dragon Rising" quest.





	The First Dragonborn

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This may contain spoilers for Final Fantasy IV.

 

Cecil Harvey stared at the stone burning tower—the Western Watchtower of Whiterun—its yellow flags which scorched openings, and broken slabs of the tower lying in ruins upon the ground.

The sight of the stoic flames brought on the dragon which had attacked before he, Irelith, and the other Whiterun soldiers had arrived reminded of Helgen... and waking up in the Imperial carriage.

 _“_ _You were trying to cross the border, right? Got caught in that Imperial ambush with us like that thief over there.”_ Ralof had said.

 _“Ambush? What ambush do you talk of?”_ Cecil had asked. Confused, hands in binds, his armor and sword gone. The last thing he had remembered was falling asleep next to his wife Rosa in Baron Castle; only to awake in this strange, foreign land known as Skyrim.

The Black Dragon which had prevented his own execution, yet had also torn Helgen to shreds and left it a smoldering husk of what was a bustling village, had vanished.

Now, apparently, a dragon had been sighted here at the watchtower. _But is it the same dragon?_ Cecil wondered.

“Well, I don't see any dragon,” Irelith said, breaking the paladin's thoughts. “But it sure looks like he's been here.” She glanced at her men. “Spread out!” She drew her sword. “Search for any survivors.”

Cecil frowned, and drew his sword. He had faced many dragons before, but he was only armed in steel plate, shield, and sword. _These will have to do. I've faced worse,_ he thought as he approached the tower.

“No!” a voice cried out. Cecil looked, and saw a stray Whiterun guardsman, unarmed. “Stay away, he's still around somewhere! Hroki and Tor got grabbed when they tried to make a run for it!”

A roar echoed through the skies.

“Kynareth save us...! Here he comes again!” the guard shouted.

Cecil shot his eyes to the sky and saw a lone dragon in the air. Orange. “That's not him,” he said.

“What?” Irelith asked.

“That's not the dragon from Helgen.”

“Forget it!” the Housecarl growled. “Look alive, and make every arrow count!”

Cecil sheathed his sword. “What are you doing?!” Irelith yelled.

He ignored her and focused. “ _Protect!_ ” Channeling his White Magic, he created a series of physical barriers upon his allies. The dragon closed and opened its mouth. “ _Shell!_ ” A wave of blue, magical barriers washed over his allies as he heard a familiar roar.

“Yol Toor Shurl!” The dragon unleashed a barrage of flames upon his foes. Cecil raised his shield, and even with his magical spells, he could feel the heat on his armor and shield. Sweat soaked his brow; he drew his sword. He heard arrows flying, guards screaming, Irelith commanding, but he kept his eyes on the skies.

Suddenly, there was loud thud and the ground near Cecil and the others broke apart. He spun; the dragon had landed near him. “Ha! I forgot what excellent sport you mortals make!” He said, biting an arm off one of the Whiterun guards. He screamed in agony.

“Be silent!” Cecil yelled. The dragon peered at him. “This is the end for you—not us.” He did not have Ragnarok, but he still had the Light. Channeling it into his sword, he rushed the dragon. “ _Paladin Force!_ ” The dragon flapped its wings.

Cecil rammed his sword, imbued with holy power, into the dragon's wing. And the power exploded. The dragon let out a roar of pain as he fell back into the ground. Growing, he turned his fury on the paladin and unleashed another breath of fiery death.

The paladin survived, wounded, but he kept his sword in hand. “ _Cura!_ ” he chanted. The guard who had lost his arm stopped screaming as the wound closed, and Cecil felt his own strength return to him.

“Who... are you? What is this power you wield?” the dragon asked, irritated.

He didn't answer. With a battle cry, Cecil rushed the dragon, slashing at his head, inflicting several wounds. The final slash missed as the dragon jerked his head back and then snapped at the paladin. The fangs met Cecil's shield, and broke it in half.

He stumbled back, gasping, sweating, bleeding, but he would not be defeated. The dragon appeared ready to take the skies again. _I will not relent!_ The paladin jumped, charging his sword with holy power again. “ _Arc of Light!_ ” A crescent wave of holy power shot from his sword and slammed into the dragon's back.

The dragon growled in agony and grunted as Cecil landed on his head. Cecil raised his sword, charging it with holy power again, and slammed it into the dragon's head. “ _Face Judgment!_ ” the paladin roared.

Blood gushed from his foe's head. The dragon stumbled forward, and an explosion of white light filled the air. Cecil felt the dragon's body shake wearily, and he rolled off, landing on his feet. He turned, the light cleared and before him and the others was the lifeless body of a dragon.

“We... we did it,” a Whiterun guard said through a gasp.

“What do you mean? _He_ did it!” Another said.

Cecil pulled himself from the ground and found himself facing the guards and Irelith. The dark elf eyed him suspiciously. “Who are you? I've never seen that type of power in all of Tamriel.”

“I am who I said I am—” Cecil started; a sudden rush of unnatural wind whipped about him. He spun and saw the dragon's body in flames, and strange golden ribbons of energy flow from the body to himself. The fire cleared and all that remained was a skeletal corpse.

“I... I can't believe it,” one of the guards said. The paladin turned and saw his wide, shocked eyes. Cecil didn't understand what had happened to him either. “You're... Dragonborn.”

“What? Dragonborn?” he asked. An old voice came to his mind, a memory of after he had just become a paladin.

_“I believe it is referring to you.”_

Cecil blinked. “What do you mean? Are you referring to the Mysidian Legend?”

“What legend?” Another guard asked. “I've never heard of it.”

“Right. You've never been to my world.” Cecil lowered his head for a moment and then met their eyes. And from memory, he recited the legend:

 

 _“Birthed from_ _the_ _womb of Dragon's maw_

_And borne unto the stars_

_By light and darkness cast aloft_

_Are dreamtide oaths resworn_

_Moon is swathed in ever-light_

_Ne'er again to know eclipse_

_Earth, with hallow'd bounty reconciled.”_

 

“What... does it mean?”

“I am a paladin,” Cecil explained. “A Holy Knight wielding the power of Light, but once I carried the sword of darkness and was a dark knight. However, there came a time where I cleansed myself of my bloodstained path and became what I am now. Those holy powers and magic you saw come from the Light I received.”

“'By light and darkness cast aloft,'” one of the guards repeated. Cecil nodded. “But... it also said... 'Birthed from the womb of a Dragon's maw'? Are there Dragonborn in your world, too?”

“I don't know what you mean by that,” he said, with a shake of his head. “What is a 'Dragonborn' here in Skyrim?”

“In the oldest tales, the Dragonborn was known to be able to slay dragons and absorb their souls,” the guard explained. “That's what happened, isn't it?”

Cecil paused. “I think you might be right.”

“There's only one way to find out. Shout.”

“What?”

“Use your Voice. The Dragonborn is said to be able to use Shouts without training.”

The paladin opened his mouth and then closed it. He recalled a strange wall in Bleak Falls Burrow which gave him some sort of power he was unable to use. He looked up. “ _Fus!_ ” A force of energy flung itself from his mouth.

“See? The Voice! You really are Dragonborn!”

Cecil almost dropped his sword. _Birthed from_ _the_ _womb of Dragon's maw._ _But I thought that referred to the Lunar Whale... could it be?_ he wondered.

“You've been awfully quiet, Irelith,” said a skeptical guard. “What do you think of this Dragonborn business?”

The dark elf glared at them. “Some of you are better off not flapping your gums about things you don't understand!” she said with a growl. “Sure, Cecil has powers I've never seen before. Which leads me to believe he is telling the truth: that he is from some other world. However,” she paused and approached the skeleton. “Here is a dead dragon, _that_ I can understand.”

“You wouldn't understand, Housecarl, you ain't a nord,” the guard who had spoken to Cecil said.

“I've been all across Tamriel!” She hissed. “And seen far more outlandish things than this... soul absorption.”

“But Cecil's powers...!”

“Silence!” Irelith turned her crimson eyes on the paladin. “You. Go report this to Jarl Balgruuf. We'll deal with the mess here.”

Cecil sighed and nodded. “Very well.” He turned and headed back to Whiterun, using lesser Cure spells to heal his wounds until he felt strong enough to begin running. What was that power? Shouting? Dragonborn? What did it all mean?

As he approached the city, a thundering sound came from the mountains: “ _Dovah-kiin!_ ” He stopped.

 _What? What..._ He shook his head and rubbed his brow. He had a feeling his journey had only begun.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be no continuation of this story, it is considered to be finished.


End file.
